The cool fall night embraces my tender helpless body.

Ginger the Canine creeps quietly caressing the border of my camp.

These woods will call my name each night I am away.

I imagine that the call of the woods will be drowned out by city noises, due dates and Girlfriends.

I imagine I will still hear their faint call beckoning me to return, beckoning to call its warm embrace home once again.

That call will cause me much conviction to return to them.

Only then can I decide what my home is. 

Only then when I have more life behind me can I decide what my home is.

Only then will the woods call me home or I will never hear from them again.

Brilant rays crest over treetops moved by ice cold currents of wind.

Ginger never strays far only venturing out to pursue purposefully a fox or rabbit.

The cool breeze swirls above me is a never ending waltz lifting and swaying with beauty and precision.

Uncertainty is just a part of this campout of life. 

Sometimes our best move is to sit down and enjoy the scenery.